“I’m not a Diva,” Lana spat, standing tall. “I’m a wrestler.”
The Divapocalypse appeared before them, stepping through the rig like it was smoke. “Clever girl. That belt was forged in the first catfight, back when wrestling was burlesque and blood. They sealed me inside it when they decided Divas should be ‘athletes.’ But you—you wanted to be a star so badly, you woke me up.”
The Divapocalypse screamed. The runes on her skin exploded outward like startled birds. Her form unraveled—first the hair, then the face, then the horrible beauty—until all that was left was a single, old-fashioned microphone on a stand. X Club Wrestling Divapocalypse
Lana looked down. The belt wasn’t just humming. It was singing. A low, guttural chant in a language that made the arena’s speakers pop and bleed static. Then the lights died.
Lana had one move. She was The Viper for a reason. She didn’t strike fast. She struck smart. “I’m not a Diva,” Lana spat, standing tall
The first to attack was Shotgun Sue, a six-foot brawler from Texas. She charged with a kendo stick, screaming a war cry. The Divapocalypse didn’t move. She simply exhaled. Sue froze mid-swing, her skin turning to mannequin plastic, her joints locking into a permanent pose—a living statue of a wrestler about to strike.
Panic erupted. The rest of the roster—twenty-three of the toughest, most athletic women on the planet—scattered. But the arena had become a labyrinth. The exits led to dressing rooms that folded into infinity mirrors. The concession stands vomited forth an ocean of stale popcorn that solidified into a glassy desert. That belt was forged in the first catfight,
She threw the championship belt.
Jade Phoenix, the high-flyer, tried to leap to the rafters. The Divapocalypse snapped her fingers, and gravity reversed. Jade floated upward, screaming, until she was pinned against the ceiling like a butterfly in a display case.
The strobe lights of the X Club Arena pulsed like a dying heartbeat. To the 15,000 screaming fans, it was the finale of Total Mayhem , the biggest pay-per-view of the year. But to the women backstage, it was the end of the world.